


Getting Busy

by Anonymous



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991), Disney Duck Universe, DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Doggy Style, Domestic Bliss, Dry Humping, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, For some reason I HC Drake as just loving it, Gosalyn is kinda done with her dorky dads, Hand Jobs, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, LITERALLY, LP bakes banana bread for heaven's sake, M/M, POV Third Person Limited, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Seriously like half the time he is just drooling over LP in this, Size Difference, Slash, Spanking, Thirsty Drake, Tsunderes, drakepad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:33:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23632396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When work on a case gets especially hectic, Drake and Launchpad are much too busy to...ahem,get busy.  This story is about the day after the case is solved, when suddenly the two find that they’ve got some free time on their hands…WARNING: This is PORN.  As such, it contains descriptions of highly explicit sex acts, so please be aware of that before you click on this fic.
Relationships: Drake Mallard/Launchpad McQuack
Comments: 6
Kudos: 85
Collections: Anonymous





	Getting Busy

**Author's Note:**

> Characterizations are mostly based on those from the '91 cartoon, mostly because I live for that sorta snarky, kinda grumpy version of Drake.
> 
> This story is mainly just porn, but is sandwiched between two fluffy-ish, goofy domestic scenes.

The Fearsome Five, the precarious group of villains led by Negaduck, had been up to their typical nefarious ways and it had been running Darkwing (a.k.a. Drake Mallard) and Launchpad completely ragged. For nearly two weeks every single night (and sometimes _day_ ) they were fighting the evildoers with only a few hours' rest. There was hardly any time to eat or sleep properly, and any other needs not directly linked to survival were thrown out the window. Drake and Launchpad had been dating for a while now, but given this new caper, it was of course a given that they couldn't take the time to satisfy any romantic or sexual desires—i.e., there was no time even for a quickie in the Thunderquack, let alone a proper date, and even though they had been working side by side for nearly a fortnight, they missed each other terribly. 

The case _finally_ ended when Negaduck decided to double cross his cohorts (not surprising) and the now Fearsome Four temporarily joined Darkwing to thwart their sometime ally, and when that was done, Darkwing and Launchpad were able to pick off the rest of their enemies one by one. It was early morning by the time Drake and Launchpad finally staggered home, each member of the Fearsome Five tied up neatly and unceremoniously dropped off at the local jail— _that was the proper legal process, right?_ They cleaned themselves up and promptly passed out, exhausted from the long ordeal. Other than dutifully making sure their daughter Gosalyn—who had been safely in the care of their neighbors till now—was ready for school and got on the school bus that morning, their sleep was blissful and uninterrupted.

Drake finally woke up in the early afternoon and with a lonely sigh, noticed Launchpad wasn't in bed anymore. Where was the big lug? He was hoping they'd stay in bed all day today, sleeping (heh, or _maybe not_ ). He rubbed his eyes sleepily, and slowly shrugging into his bathrobe, made his way downstairs. Something smelled delicious—LP must be whipping something up in the kitchen.

He heard some clanging and scuffling around in the kitchen, and when he went in, saw Launchpad now standing patiently in front of the oven, watching it as intently as he would one of his TV shows. Drake blushed when he noticed LP was clad simply in a pair of his boxer briefs, the kind that really hugged his lower half, emphasizing every naughty outline. Drake always felt particularly weak in the knees when Launchpad wore stuff like that. Plus, he was cooking? _Stop it LP, I’m already in love with you_ , he thought, heart fluttering. 

But then Drake noticed the disastrous state of the kitchen and his mood went from lovesick to grumpy. Launchpad had covered nearly every surface with ingredients, dirty utensils and containers, several propped open cookbooks (a couple were upside down… _what the hell, LP_?), and random clumps of what looked like batter, which was oozing stickily over the edges of the countertops. _What a mess!_

"What bomb went off in here?" Drake grumbled, standing in the doorway, hands on his hips. Launchpad noticed him and gave him a huge smile, which of course instantly diffused most of his irritation. A fact that _also_ irritated him.

"Oh hey, DW. Gee, well, I don't know about any bomb—I do have a timer though," he said, pointing toward one sitting next to some cracked and oozing eggshells. "It'll help me remember when to take the banana bread out." 

_Oh, so that's what smelled so good_ , Drake thought. _How much time was left?_ He glanced at LP’s timer to find out, but the thing hadn't actually been set. _Oh dear_.

"Um, LP, just for curiosity’s sake—when did you start baking?"

He looked thoughtful. "Probably at least an hour ago," he said. "Why?"

"Well, I have a feeling that your timer won't go off, so you might want to go ahead and check the bread."

"Okay, will do, DW!" And even though Drake fully expected the kitchen to flood with smoke as soon as he opened the oven, the bread was fine. He took it out and Drake scowled a little, feeling jealous, because it was _better_ than fine—it looked _perfect_. None of his food _ever_ looked this good. 

_Taste_ , on the other hand…LP often opted toward the spicy or downright bizarre, so Drake wouldn't always say his food was, err, “ _delicious_ ,” per se. That said, he had been making an effort lately to bite his tongue though, because he'd rather suffer through peanut butter and hot dog soup or whatever rather than see Launchpad looking at him with those big eyes, all sad and disappointed.

"Okay, so now we let it cool, and then we can have some! I dunno about you, but I'm starved!" Launchpad gave Drake another big grin that made his heart flip. Whenever LP was happy, no matter how grumpy or irritated Drake himself was feeling, it was like a wash of sunshine that warmed him from the inside out. _That didn't mean he had to show it, though._

Drake crossed his arms, trying his best to look mad to cover up how he was basically swooning. "Oh, come on. You're _always_ hungry, LP!"

Probably anticipating chowing down as soon as possible, Launchpad absently rubbed his bare washboard stomach, which looked like it was none the worse for wear despite the ten billion junk foods he ate in a week. 

_It wasn't fair,_ Drake thought with a mix of jealousy and appreciation. Unlike _some people_ , Drake had to be kind of careful or he quickly put on weight, becoming pudgy in the middle and on his backside. And although he had to admit that whenever he was a few pounds overweight he kinda liked it when LP would grab big handfuls of his ass or grip him tightly by the love handles while they were having sex, he didn't like being chubby otherwise. It kinda messed with his whole, you know, ego _thing_. He was at a pretty normal weight right now, but eyeing the decadent looking treat LP had cooked up, he knew he probably should at most only have a teeny tiny slice. _Carbs. What a nightmare._

"You want anything to drink with breakfast—err, I guess it's actually ‘lunch’ now—DW?" Launchpad asked, slightly bent over as he leaned into the fridge. 

Drake couldn't help but get a good, long, lingering look at his toned ass, barely contained in those tight little boxer briefs. He gulped a bit as he gazed upward along the line of LP’s spine, drinking in how muscular and so damn broad LP's back was. _Oohh_ , he hoped sometime— _if he was lucky, **today** , since it had been so **looonng**_ —he might have a chance to rake his fingers down along those rippling muscles, preferably while Drake was flat on his back, legs splayed wide as LP, working up a good sweat, swayed above him, giving it to him _nice and_ _hard_ —

"DW?" LP looked over his shoulder at Drake, who was completely lost in his reverie, dazed and drooling somewhat.

Drake came back to reality with a jolt. "H-huh? What? Oh, drinks? Err, j-just some water would be fine, LP," he stammered, suddenly very interested in the floor tiles and playing with the belt on his fuzzy housecoat.

"10-4, DW," Launchpad said cheerily, grabbing the water pitcher for Drake and a can of soda for himself out of the fridge. He carefully poured a glass of water, not spilling a drop, and carrying the glass very gingerly, made his way over to Drake to hand it to him—

And then promptly tripped, dousing Drake in an impromptu cold shower.

"Yooowwww!" Drake yelped, suddenly finding himself drenched and very, very cold. _Well, that was **one** way to drive out all his hot thoughts about Launchpad. _He was so utterly frozen his mind couldn't summon the energy even to be mad. Launchpad immediately looked horrified and full of remorse.

"Aw, damn, DW! I'm so sorry! Let me get you a towel real quick," he said, and setting down Drake's now empty glass, he bounded out of the kitchen to fetch a towel, presumably from their linen closet. Drake shivered and rubbed his wet shoulders in an effort to warm himself up, but his bathrobe was a little too soggy for that.

"Here ya go, DW." Launchpad had reemerged and Drake soon found himself being mopped up with a fluffy bath towel. Drake didn’t protest as Launchpad gently wiped his face and neck, enjoying the soft petting sensation, but balked when Launchpad then tugged at his bathrobe.

"Uh-uh," he said, sounding like a little kid, crossing his arms firmly to clasp his soggy robe tightly around himself.

"You need to take off that wet thing, or you'll catch cold," Launchpad said, looking determined.

Drake apprehensively glanced out the kitchen window into the yard, thinking about how _anyone_ could see in here if they wanted to.

"Nonono, LP, I'm okay," he muttered, giving Launchpad a nervous grin. "I'll just, uh, keep this on."

"Oh no, you won't. That water was _cold_ , DW. Just take this outer thing off," he insisted, yanking sharply at the belt, unfurling the robe, and pulling the whole thing off in one fell swoop. "It's not like you’re—"

But Drake _was_. Not wearing anything under the robe, _that is_.

Eyes like saucers, Launchpad just gawked at him for a couple of seconds as Drake, embarrassed, held his hands awkwardly in front of himself, trying desperately to look anywhere but LP's face. His face felt hot as he ventured a teensy glance up at him and was shocked to see LP had turned ten shades redder than he himself felt, looking every bit like his brain had experienced a major system error and needed to reboot.

"Y-you weren't w-wearing anything under it.…b-but you _always_..." Launchpad stammered, slowly and disbelievingly, as Drake insistently tugged at the towel LP was limply holding in his other hand, wanting very much to have some sort of cover, _please_. Their neighbors the Muddlefoots were pretty nosy, after all. 

Launchpad let go and Drake quickly wrapped himself up in the towel. Even though the little bath towel barely made him decent, it was sort of nice to be out of that wet robe, which LP was still clutching and gazing at in utter awe, as if it somehow held the secrets of the universe. Now, usually Drake simply wore his bathrobe over some boxers or his pajamas to be a little more decent than Mr. Underwear Model over here, so it probably blew LP’s mind that Drake would ever wear it with nothing underneath. 

Letting the wet garment slip through his fingers onto the kitchen floor with a wet plop, Launchpad slowly turned his attention over to Drake, whose stomach did a couple wild somersaults when he met LP's gaze, which was suddenly fiery hot and brimming with lust.

_Oh shit…he must have **reaaally** liked that I didn't wear anything under my robe_, Drake thought, shivering not from the cold but the crackling intensity of LP’s stare, knowing that in a few seconds he would—

Drake nearly dropped his towel as Launchpad more or less tackled him, embracing him tightly in his big muscular arms as he peppered his neck and face with hot kisses, which instantly made Drake feel vaguely drunk. The cloying kisses to his neck in particular were causing Drake's mind to start clouding over, each tiny smooch and nibble sending waves of pleasure gliding over his skin. 

He didn’t balk as LP scooped him up and moved them both about ten feet into the living room and deposited him on the couch. Drake leaned his head back over the armrest as Launchpad moved to position himself over him, which felt very natural and familiar but was still every bit as exciting as the first time. Drake felt his entire body flush when he stole a glance down at where LP’s hips were hovering above his lower body— _Mmm_ , he really hoped that this was going somewhere else than just a simple make out session. Then he gulped, mouth suddenly producing too much saliva when he drank in the massive bulge between LP's legs—Launchpad was so hard it looked like he might pop out of those itty bitty boxers, whose elastic was seriously being put to the test. Seeing that, Drake suddenly felt that even the towel he had loosely wrapped around his lower half was getting uncomfortably tight as well.

Not noticing or caring that Drake was ogling him, LP resumed kissing the sides of Drake's face and neck, seemingly deliberately ignoring Drake's mouth, which itched to kiss him back. Drake kept trying to turn his face to meet LP's, but Launchpad would deftly avoid his eager lips and kiss somewhere else, obviously teasing him on purpose.

_God **dammit** LP_, Drake thought with equal parts excitement and frustration as LP nibbled a bit harder on his neck, causing a prickling heat to glide over his skin. After needling him for a while like this, Launchpad eventually ended the tortuous warm-up and focused on getting their mouths better acquainted, with Drake moaning a bit when he _finally_ got what he wanted. 

The jolt of electricity that sparked between them as their lips met was reminiscent of their first hot but awkward kiss. If they were out of practice, it was because it had been a while, after all. Drake gasped hungrily into Launchpad’s mouth, relieved that now they finally had the time and the privacy to reunite like this. _Mmm, LP always tastes so sweet_ , Drake thought absently as he eagerly leaned into Launchpad's kiss, which started turning into several, as he started kissing Drake’s bottom lip, the sides of his mouth, the top… 

Drake, who had been drenched in frigid water earlier, now wasn't feeling so cold anymore—rather, a hot flush was spreading farther and farther over his body the longer his mouth interlocked with LP's. The heat began to concentrate in his nether regions when Launchpad started giving him a little tongue, their kissing slowly becoming a tad naughtier. Drake’s knees felt weak— _thank God he was no longer standing up_ —desire pooling in his stomach as LP licked harder and harder against his tongue. He felt especially hot between his legs, as the way LP kept plunging his tongue in and out of Drake's mouth was highly reminiscent of another adult activity that he had been missing so, _so_ _badly_. 

He squirmed, and couldn't help rolling his hips, his groin rubbing a little against Launchpad’s chiseled stomach as he tried to get some relief for his throbbing arousal. It would have been nice to rub himself up against LP’s equally straining erection, but the redheaded Adonis was so damn tall their hips didn't match up when kissing like this. Launchpad noticed Drake’s mild discomfort, and making a murmuring noise, he slowly pulled off Drake's mouth with a wet smack, staring into his eyes with a smoky half-lidded gaze that involuntarily made Drake squeeze his trembling legs together shyly, as if he was somehow trying to hide the fact that he was hard as a rock, something he had just made _very clear_ by rubbing up against Launchpad’s abdomen. 

LP sat upright, and his heart racing, Drake suddenly felt himself being flipped and bent over the armrest, his field of view limited to the carpet. _Huh, this isn't **that** interesting_, he thought with confusion, but then felt his crotch tingle as something big and hard pressed up against his backside. Launchpad gripped him around where the towel was wrapped at his waist and started rubbing his barely clothed dick slowly against Drake's ass. Drake couldn't help but whine at the tantalizing sensation, and arched his back, pressing his rear more insistently against the front of LP's straining boxers. Launchpad grunted as he rolled his hips back, and like a pair of enthusiastic teenagers, the two rubbed against each other like that for a few moments, feeling the muted but teasing sensation of having fabric between them.

Soon enough though, LP seemed to get tired of that separation, because he then suddenly yanked down Drake’s towel so his bare ass was sticking up in the air. He had apparently pulled his own covering down as well, because then all Drake could feel was the hot jolt of skin on skin, LP's stiff cock sliding up between his ass cheeks. He blushed deeply as he felt the slippery tip slide wetly over his entrance, dangerously close to slipping inside. Drake gave a few breathless groans as the slick from LP's cock made his shaft slippier and slippier as he teased over Drake’s asshole. 

At first lost in how good this felt, Drake was slowly becoming aware of the open curtain of the window behind the couch. The last thing he needed was the Muddlefoots having a front row seat to him about to get a deep ass fucking—though they probably suspected he regularly got as much—so, in between Launchpad’s languid humping, he muttered huskily, "L-lets go upstairs, LP…" _This kinda thing was for the bedroom, anyway._ Launchpad slowly slid off Drake's ass, and Drake's face burned because he already felt wet and sticky back there even though LP hadn't properly stuck it in yet, no doubt thanks to the pilot's copious amounts of slick, hot precum.

Stepping out of his little boxers and just abandoning them on the floor, Launchpad turned Drake over, and leaving his towel behind too, slowly carried him bridal style upstairs. Drake secretly adored it when LP would cradle him so lovingly like this, but he would take a long walk off a short pier before he admitted to anything this cheesy and tooth-rotting. 

Speaking of tooth-rotting, Drake absently remembered that they were going to have some lunch, but they had completely forgotten about it … _oh well_ , he thought, and cuddling against his big, strong and—smirking as he stole a glance southward—very _naked_ Launchpad, he guessed they were having some “dessert” first.

Clutching LP's neck as he carried him, Drake kissed him deeply, which was meant to be simply romantic at first, but he couldn't help himself. He started kissing LP roughly, and then bit him a little, giving LP a start. Shocked by the sudden roughness, LP swayed precariously on the steps.

"Hey now, DW—” he began to say, perhaps about to tell him to cut it out, but Drake cut him off with some more wet, sloppy kisses with a couple more slightly too hard bites to his lip, which made him shakily stop in his tracks again.

"DW…" Launchpad didn't get mad hardly ever, but he was narrowing his eyes warningly at Drake.

Drake just glared back and defiantly nipped at him again, HARD, never breaking eye contact. _Drake was pretty sure LP knew what he was driving at, so if he was lucky maybe LP would—_

Sure enough, Launchpad plopped down right in the middle of the stairs and in half a second had Drake flipped over on his lap, ass up.

"You're bein' bad," he said gruffly, and Drake squirmed in excitement, relishing both Launchpad’s sudden dangerous energy and the hot insistence of LP's erection pressing into his stomach. His own arousal was rubbing tightly against LP's leg, and only got harder as Launchpad gave him a few sharp slaps to his ass, his big hand covering most of Drake’s whole backside.

_Ooohhh **God** , there was something so delicious about this kind of humiliation…_he thought, drooling and humping LP's leg a little as LP spanked him.

They of course had a safe word and all that, and although Launchpad seemed a little leery of this kind of play at first—Drake remembered the first time he asked LP to do this to him, he just looked confused and said, "But I dont wanna hurt ya, DW,”—he apparently began to realize _exactly how much_ Drake liked getting his little ass spanked and so when he was clearly asking for it ( _like he was just now_ ) Launchpad would sometimes _really_ let him have it. Usually afterwards Drake was absolutely raring to fuck, so it paid off for him too. 

It was much the same now: Drake was whining loudly with pleasure as his ass started glowing from the spanking and was panting like he had been running a marathon, strands of saliva dripping from his mouth, and frantically rubbing himself against LP's leg. Seeing him in such a debauched state probably convinced Launchpad to go ahead and end the "punishment," and he promptly flung Drake back over his shoulder and carried him the rest of the way upstairs. He got no more naughty bites from Drake, who was reduced to a puddle at this point, ass red and quivering from the spanking. Writhing against LP's shoulder, all Drake could think was, _God, was he just aching for a good hot fuck_. _He'd been thinking about this for goddamn weeks._

He moaned wantonly when Launchpad first deposited him on the edge of their bed, and then, without saying a word, got the lube and was warming it up between his large fingers. 

On his belly and looking up over his shoulder up at LP, Drake wiggled his ass and just breathed, " _Plleeaasse_ , LP. Don’t make me _waaaaait_ ," and blushing a bit, LP inserted a lubricated finger to start stretching Drake open. Drake just kept lustily looking behind him at LP and couldn't help but salivate as he watched LP pump one slippery finger and eventually two, in and out of his asshole. As he was fingering him, Drake peered over his shoulder and caught a glimpse between LP's legs, where he could see his girthy, stiff arousal twitching a bit in anticipation, the slick of his precum slowly dribbling down the long thick shaft, making it shiny and wet and….

_Oh **fuuuuck**_. Drake’s whole body now felt like it was on fire. LP's fingers in him were starting to feel pretty damn good, but he desperately wanted, no, _NEEDED_ that cock.

" _Fuck me_ , LP," he panted, startling the pilot, who was in mid finger thrust. "Just _give it_ to me,” he whispered huskily, and though he was turning several shades of red, Launchpad wasted no time swiping generous amounts of lube up and down his shaft, and eagerly pressed the tip of his slick erection to Drake's prepped entrance. 

"T-this is okay, right, DW?" He asked, a note of excitement in his voice. He loved a good dirty fuck but was a sweet guy, so he always asked permission.

"Yes, pleeeaase," Drake purred, and LP pressed forward into his ass so that the head of his cock dipped past the initial ring of muscle. Both him and Drake looked dazed for a second, mouths hanging open a little dopily at how good this felt. Launchpad pushed in a little more so he was about halfway inside, and here Drake tensed up and had to grit his teeth, because _holyyy fuuuuck_ this guy was huge. No matter how many times he could brag that he’d been fucked by Launchpad, taking massive cock like his was certainly easier said than done. Launchpad seemed to realize the… _difficulty_ involved, and rubbed Drake’s back tenderly, trying to soothe him as Drake tried to adjust, wiggling his rear a little, feeling the knife edge of pain and pleasure as his asshole stretched wider and wider to accommodate LP's thick girth. 

Finally, he felt somewhat more comfortable, and LP pushed the rest of the way in, his crotch squishing flush against Drake's now very full ass. Drake couldn't breathe for a moment as every fiber of his being could only concentrate on the sensation of being completely speared by Launchpad's dick, which was starting to feel less and less like an intrusive presence and more like _exactly_ what he’d been wanting and needing so, so _BADLY_ over their impromptu dry spell. LP began to move very slowly and gently inside him, obviously trying not to hurt him, but Drake was hungry and ready for some roughhousing. 

"Go a little faster, LP," he urged, and Launchpad complied, and began slickly pumping in and out of him at a nice clip. Drake felt a flush spread over him as he felt the tops of LP’s muscular thighs bounce against his backside as LP gave it to him good and fast. On each stroke Launchpad would pull almost entirely out and then with a wet gushing sound, fuck all the way back in. It was so tantalizing and hot that Drake was already a quivering mess, and they'd only been fucking for a couple of minutes. 

As he thrust in and out, Launchpad roughly gripped Drake's ass and pulled at his flesh there, kneading it and spreading his cheeks apart, exposing his asshole as he pounded into it. Drake could feel the tickle of air grazing across it as LP pulled at his ass cheeks, and feeling a little embarrassed at how in full view he was, Drake glanced over his shoulder and then blushed deeply at how Launchpad seemed to be just staring, a little slack-jawed, at where he was rhythmically pumping him full of his cock. 

Drake shuddered as he imagined that maybe LP was committing to memory the image of how wet, pink and juicy Drake _surely was_ clamped tightly around his big fat erection. He had never been so lucky to catch Launchpad masturbating—fuck, even the _idea_ of LP with his pants around his ankles and lazily palming himself made Drake's mouth water—but Drake wondered, _did he think of stuff like this when he was pleasuring himself_? All the while he was being bounced roughly against the mattress, Drake's cock twitched as these nasty thoughts swirled in his mind.

Drake was suddenly brought back to reality when Launchpad lifted him up a little, cock still pumping deep inside, and scooted them toward the center of the bed. Now off the edge of the bed, Drake settled onto his hands and knees while LP continued to give him that much needed deep dicking, only now LP could easily reach under Drake and pay some attention to his dripping, straining arousal. Launchpad’s hand was so big it was easy for him to palm nearly Drake's whole length, and Drake’s stomach did a few flips when he gripped him and started sliding his hand deftly up and down his shaft, all the while never ceasing to rapidly fuck in and out of Drake's ass. The sensation of being fucked and jerked off at the same time was driving Drake completely insane, and he started crying out loudly with pleasure. 

"Oh _s-shit_ , LP, oh G-god!! _Fuck_!!" Drake found that he could only curse; what LP was doing to him felt so fucking good that he’d apparently become completely incoherent. Launchpad was thrusting in at the same time that his hand massaged up Drake's shaft, squeezing the leaking tip a bit, then on the down stroke of palming Drake he pulled his own cock _alllmoooost_ all the way out of Drake's ass, teasingly leaving just the tip inside. Then, rubbing deliciously against Drake’s prostate, he would slickly pump all the way back in with a wet squish as his hand moved back up Drake's erection, repeating the torturously erotic cycle of _downstroke/pull nearly out, upstroke/pump back in_. It was like a dirty little seesaw, that felt so nerve-meltingly good Drake’s eyes were crossing, and he could feel big drops of saliva dripping from his gasping mouth onto the mattress below him. _Good **God** did Launchpad know how to fuck_.

He distantly heard the sound of someone just _wailing_ like they were orgasming hard, and suddenly he realized it was _him_ , because now he was going into a frenzy, fucking wildly into Launchpad’s hand and coating his palm with hot globs of cum.

"Ohhhh _fuck_ ," he groaned as he emptied out his desire in measured, hot spurts. Launchpad paused his own thrusting, lingering at about halfway out of Drake’s ass, and rubbed Drake’s back gently with his off hand as Drake slowly finished thrusting into his other one. Drake's knees were weak and trembling after coming, but he was beginning to feel that familiar, soothing afterglow. He knew LP hadn’t come yet though, so giving LP a searing _come-hither_ look over his shoulder, he lowered his face and shoulders down against the mattress and hiked his ass up as high and as vulnerably as possible, inviting the big lug to take what he wanted.

Launchpad eagerly accepted the offer and plunged all the way back in deep and hard, making Drake grunt a bit at the rough intrusion. He gripped Drake's hips tightly and began fucking at a much rougher, brutal pace than before, one that had Drake jostling and flailing against the mattress. On each thrust Launchpad didn't pull so far out now; now he just seemed to concentrate on shorter pumps that were much faster. He still fucked in as deeply as he could, and even though Drake had just come, he felt little hot sparks of desire curl in his belly as Launchpad pounded his prostate. LP moved his hands lower and grasped Drake's ass firmly, anchoring it to his crotch, as if to say, _this belongs right here._

Then while he was thrusting, Launchpad suddenly slapped Drake’s ass sharply, and though it shocked him, the smack sent a searing hot wave of pleasure over Drake and he couldn't help but let out a long, loud, wanton moan. _God, he was such a slut for LP spanking him—he just couldn't get enough._ Launchpad gave him a couple more swats and predictably, Drake was writhing against him and letting out a chorus of dirty cries. 

Apparently, Launchpad enjoyed those sounds _quite a bit_ because he started fucking Drake with a renewed feverish frenzy, pumping into Drake so hard the smaller duck thought he might split in two. He gritted his teeth and felt tears pricking at his eyes as LP outright punished his ass, drilling him so hard he was crushing him down into the mattress. 

He didn’t have to endure the punishment long though, because Launchpad quickly lost it, groaning loudly and deeply as he began to climax. Drake could now feel on each frenzied thrust that LP was emptying his huge load into him, and Drake blushed deeply as he felt his insides tickle as they filled up with cum. When LP finished spurting his hot spend into Drake’s ass, he continued his thrusting, though more lazily now, fucking the cum even deeper inside. Drake couldn't help but think with some amusement that maybe _now_ , they wouldn’t even _need_ any extra lube if they went a second round. 

He cast a glance up over his shoulder at his partner, who was looking sweaty but blissed out. Petting Drake's ass cheeks gently, as if apologizing for the rough treatment, Launchpad pulled out with a wet pop. Drake lowered his ass from where he had been so generously serviced by LP and spread himself out flat on the bed, sighing contentedly. Launchpad sat beside him, leaning up against the pillows, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Drake glanced up at him and gave him a sheepish smile. "Err, I think we both were really looking forward to that."

A blush blooming over his beak, LP gave him his characteristic handsome, lazy grin. "Heh, yeah, no kiddin’,” he said, running his hand through his shock of red hair that had since become wet with sweat and tousled from their afternoon activities. 

“Since the case finally ended, maybe now crime won't be so bad for a while and we won't have to go, err, _without_ for so long,” Drake mused, feeling worn out but blissful.

“Yeah,” LP agreed simply. “I really missed ya, DW," he then said sweetly, leaning down to give Drake a kiss on the cheek, leaving a pink blush in its wake. 

“Um, well, I missed you too,” Drake said a little shyly, reaching for Launchpad’s hand and squeezing it tightly. LP squeezed his hand back and used it to gently pull Drake up so that he was nestled next to him leaning up against the pillows. Drake flushed a bit, since he could feel the product of LP's hot love dripping slowly down his thighs as his weight shifted. Launchpad wrapped a massive arm around Drake's shoulders and snuggled him close. Being so small compared to his much larger partner, Drake felt a little like a plush toy, but despite being nearly smushed in LP’s embrace, he nuzzled his big pilot right back. 

Drake kissed Launchpad’s neck and whispered, "You know, we forgot all about the banana bread." LP's eyes widened as he remembered, and his stomach growled loudly at the thought.

Downstairs, they heard the front door slam and the two of them, still naked and embracing, froze.

"Dad? Launchpad?" _Oh shit_. Gosalyn was back from school. In a blind panic the two haphazardly put on whatever clothes they could find and quickly emerged from their bedroom, closing it behind them since it smelled particularly, err… _telling_ in there now.

“Uh, hi, Gos,” Drake said meekly as they came downstairs, meeting her near the front door.

“Dude, what are you two wearing?” Gos asked incredulously. She looked like she was trying her best not to laugh. 

Drake looked down, not sure himself. He was apparently wearing one of Launchpad’s shirts, because he was absolutely swimming in it, and had on two different slippers, one of which was so large it was about to fall off, so it must also be LP’s. Launchpad, on the other hand, had on a dress shirt which he never wore, with the buttons done up incorrectly. He had this paired with some very old flannel pajama pants from God knows where. He and Drake looked like they were trying their damnedest to alert the fashion police and get thrown in prison for _unspeakable_ crimes against style.

“Heheh, uhm, we were trying out some new outfits,” Drake said lamely, feeling a trickle of nervous sweat roll down his back. Gos just rolled her eyes, and thankfully didn't press further. She tossed down her backpack and strolled into the kitchen.

“Hey Dad, is it okay if I grab a sn—Whoa! What in the heck happened to the kitchen?!” Gosalyn exclaimed, and Launchpad winced, apparently just now remembering that he had destroyed it. 

“Oh, heh, sorry, Gos,” LP said, chuckling to himself uneasily. “I, uh, made some banana bread, so the kitchen’s a little messy. It should be there on the counter, so feel free to have some.” 

LP and Drake followed her into the kitchen and were now watching her with some trepidation as she started to cut a slice of the bread. 

Both Launchpad and Drake were cringing as she slowly cut it. _Don’t cut yourself, don’t cut yourself,_ both looked like they were praying. Finally, she finished cutting without incident, and her dads sighed with relief.

Drake then cast his eyes over their kitchen and instantly became grumpy. He had forgotten exactly _how_ trashed it was.

“Wow, life really _is_ like a hurricane,” Drake muttered, shaking his head at the state of their kitchen. Launchpad looked at him with confusion, not understanding what he meant.

“Hey, um, why is Dad's bathrobe in a wet pile on the floor here?” Gos said, mouth full of bread, narrowing her eyes at the soggy clump on the floor. Drake snatched it up and feigned a laugh.

“Ohhhhh, so _that’s_ where that got to. I forgot to put this in the laundry…”

Gos just chewed, raising an eyebrow. 

_Bit by bit and day by day his little girl was slowly growing up_ , Drake thought wistfully, his heart melting a bit. But her growing up unfortunately _also_ meant she was getting too old to buy any of his bullshit.

She then strolled into the living room, with her dads nervously trotting behind her. It took her all of two seconds to find and gingerly pick up the edge—as if it was biohazardous material—of Launchpad's boxer briefs, the ones he had abandoned in his and Drake’s make-out and dry humping (which turned into bit of _wet_ humping) session earlier.

"Lemme guess—did somebody forget to put _this_ in the laundry, too?"

Launchpad was flushing several shades of red, and this time he was the one to quickly grab the wayward clothing item from Gos. "Err, that was my bad. I guess I, uh, lost track of my underwear earlier." 

Drake cringed, wishing Launchpad would lie a little better.

“Huh, there's some sort of towel here too. You guys have been doing some _weird_ things with clothing and stuff today, huh?” Gos said, flopping onto the couch and switching on the TV.

“Well, mostly we didn't wear _any_ ,” Launchpad said, and Drake violently facepalmed, feeling a hot flush of embarrassment rise up from under the collar of his— _well, technically LP’s_ —oversized shirt.

_Jeez, LP!_ Drake thought. _Why not just outright TELL our daughter we were fucking all afternoon?_

“Makes sense if you were trying on different outfits, I guess,” Gos said, looking bored as she watched a commercial playing on the TV screen.

“We weren't—” and here, Drake pinched LP's lips shut. _Damn, Launchpad was so honest it was dangerous sometimes_.

Leaving their daughter to her TV show, he led LP back towards the kitchen. Thinking of the dirty mess they had made today ( _in more ways than one_ ) he figured they’d start by dealing with the kitchen. 

He gave Launchpad’s hand a squeeze. _They had some cleaning up to do._


End file.
